


The place where I keep my peace

by Ischa



Series: Encounter [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Related, Explicit Sexual Content, Health Issues, Loss of Powers, M/M, Post-Canon, Second Chances, Showers, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 22:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10751088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: Last part in the Encounter Series. Clark comes back from the dead, that's not the scary thing, Bruce thinks.Bruce looked out over the still lake and took a breath. “You died.”Clark stared at him. ‘I kinda figured that out when I dug myself out of a grave, Bruce.’ Clark wrote. That was not what he had wanted to hear. That was not the answer to all the other questions.“Right,” Bruce said after a glance at his phone. “Of course you would be all blasé about that. Sure, dig yourself out of a grave. It’s nothing. What does it matter that we thought you died for over a year!”





	The place where I keep my peace

~One~  
“Mister Wayne,” Ross, the security man, said as Bruce entered the office building from the garage. 

“Yes?” Bruce asked. 

Ross seemed like a competent guy, but he looked a bit flustered now. “Mister Wayne, there is something I would like to show you, if you have a minute?” 

Bruce didn’t have a minute, he never had any minutes left these days. But it could be something… he nodded. “Sure.” 

“I know he doesn’t do anything. He just sits and stares at the building, but… he looks kinda like he should be in a hospital or a shelter,” Ross said. 

Bruce was staring at the video footage of the man sitting on a bench in front of the Wayne Building. Just sitting there and staring. He was wearing a suit ,but it looked rumpled and ill-fitting. He had a beard, but Bruce’s heart had stopped anyway when he saw the footage for the first time. The man sitting on the bench and staring at the building looked just like Clark Kent. 

“Should I call someone?” 

“How long has he been sitting there?” Bruce asked a bit sharper than he had intended to. 

Ross swallowed. “A few hours a day, for the last five days.”

“Five days?”

“He doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t talk to anyone…so I thought…” Ross trailed off and shrugged. 

Bruce nodded. “No, it’s fine, if he doesn’t disturb anyone just let him sit there.”  
Bruce had a meeting in ten minutes, so he couldn’t go out there and talk to the man who looked like Clark. Dammit. “Ross.”

“Yes Mister Wayne?” 

“Keep an eye on him. I want to talk to him, but I have a meeting in ten minutes. Let me know if it looks like he’s going to leave?” 

“Oh, sure, but Mister Wayne, he leaves always at the same time. Like clockwork.”  
Bruce looked at him. Ross swallowed again. “At 16:37. Sharp.” 

“Thank you,” Bruce said and then hurried up to the elevator. 

~+~  
He cut his day short and was out of the building at 16:30. Which left him seven minutes before the man was going to disappear. Where to, god only knew.  
Bruce steeled himself. It could be just a homeless person. It could be, but Bruce didn’t believe in that.  
He approached the man slowly and once he was standing a few feet away, the man looked at him and it was Clark. Or someone who looked exactly like Clark. But then Bruce had known that.  
The suit was dirty and the exact same he had been wearing when they buried him. 

“Can I sit?” Bruce asked. 

The man just looked at him, didn’t say a word, so Bruce sat down carefully on the bench, so he wouldn’t startle the person who looked like Clark and smelled like earth and other less pleasant things. 

“What’s your name?” Bruce asked, not looking at Clark, but staring at the building. He had a déjà vu. He had been here before. More than ten years ago.  
If this was Clark maybe he…Bruce stopped the thought right there. He had no data to go on and he was emotionally compromised. There were so many questions that needed to be answered. How? Why? Was this really Clark? Why was he here? Why hadn’t anyone reported his grave disturbed? He needed to talk to Mrs. Kent. He needed to get out there and-

“Wayne,” Clark said. His voice sounded hoarse and unused. 

It startled Bruce. He turned his head and looked at Clark’s profile. Clark was still staring at the building. Or more accurate at the big sign with Bruce’s last name on it. 

“Clark,” Bruce tried, but the man didn’t seem to hear him or was ignoring Bruce’s attempts at communication.

There was nothing to do but take him home. Bruce didn’t know if Clark had amnesia, or brain damage, if he still had his powers, how he had escaped his grave – and death. If he was dangerous. It didn’t seem so right now, but…Bruce didn’t know. And Bruce didn’t like not knowing. 

“Wayne,” Clark repeated and then after a long moment of silence, “Welcome here.”

Well, Bruce thought. Fuck. There was no way in hell Bruce would leave Clark here. No matter the danger.  
“Yes,” Bruce said. He pulled out his ID and held it out so Clark could see it. 

Clark nodded. “Wayne.” 

“Yes,” Bruce said again. He stood up and held out his hand to Clark. Clark didn’t take it but he stood up too and then he just followed Bruce to his car. 

~+~  
“Good Lord,” Alfred said as he opened the door. “A little warning, Master Bruce?”

“I think we need to get the guest room ready, Alfred,” Bruce replied, ignoring Alfred’s raised eyebrow. 

“A bath first, I’d say,” Alfred said, all business now. “Or a shower.” 

Bruce nodded and handed Clark over to Alfred. He needed a drink or two.  
Alfred gave him a look like he knew exactly what Bruce was thinking. After all this time it was most likely the case.  
Clark let Alfred lead him away and Bruce grabbed the whiskey and poured himself a drink. He downed it down and then poured another. He knew he had to call Mrs. Kent and tell her about – no. He had to be sure first. He had to find out what had happened to Clark. He had to fix Clark first.  
He had just poured himself a third drink when Alfred entered the kitchen.

“Is it really Mister Kent?” 

“He looks like Clark.”

“He doesn’t seem himself,” Alfred said. 

Bruce laughed without humor. “You don’t say. He seems…absent.” 

“Will you…test him?” Alfred asked. 

“Will I throw a knife at him? See if he bleeds? I don’t know if that is still a good method to find out if Clark is Clark.” He poured another drink. “He’s been sitting on the bench in front of Wayne Tower for five days. Just staring at it. I found out today.” 

“We should fly to Kansas,” Alfred said. 

“You will fly out to Kansas and look at that grave. Preferably without Martha Kent seeing you,” Bruce replied. 

“Of course,” Alfred said. “Tomorrow morning?” 

“Yes.” 

“I will prepare the guest room now.” 

“Thank you Alfred,” Bruce said. 

Alfred nodded, grabbing the bottle on his way and putting it away.  
Bruce took the hint. 

~+~  
Bruce woke with a start. He was alert at once, sat up slowly and then switched on the dimmed nightstand lamp. Clark was standing in a corner of the room. Watching him. There was a strange sense of otherness about him, that Bruce hadn’t felt when they met for the first time when Bruce had paid for his company. Back then Bruce had though that Clark was an ordinary young man. A replacement for his usual date. Now he knew that there was nothing ordinary about Clark.  
Clark was too still, too silent, too…other. Other was the only word that fit Clark now, Bruce thought. 

“Can’t sleep?” Bruce asked. 

Clark just stared at him.  
Great, that was just great, Bruce thought. Maybe it was a trauma. And did he really want a traumatized Superman in his house? In his bedroom?  
But he had failed Clark once already, he wasn’t going to fail him again. He got out of bed and waved Clark to follow him.  
Clark did. 

Once in the kitchen, Bruce made coffee for the both of them and sat down at the breakfast bar. Clark did the same.  
Bruce drank his coffee, Clark drank his. It was an imitation game, Bruce realized. But Clark seemed calm and a bit more lively too. And he had been seeking Bruce out. In his bedroom, granted…and Bruce really didn’t know what he was supposed to think about it. Clark had moved on, or so Bruce had thought. He had moved on to Lois Lane. Before he died.  
Bruce really couldn’t be thinking about Lois Lane now. One problem at a time. 

“So, you won’t speak?” 

Clark’s sharp blue eyes focused on him. “Speak?” 

“Good,” Bruce said, because a question was progress in his eyes. He studied Clark’s face. He needed a shave, he looked different without the glasses. He was neither Superman, nor Clark Kent right now, Bruce thought. “What’s your name?” 

Clark’s brows furrow. “Clark?” 

Bruce sighed. “Let’s go with that. I think you are Clark Kent.” 

“Clark Kent,” Clark said, with a bit more conviction behind it. “Wayne.” He added with a nod in Bruce’s direction. 

“Yes, Bruce Wayne. You can call me Bruce.” 

“Bruce,” Clark said, like he was trying the word out and then he smiled. 

And it was that charming, happy smile, the one that Bruce had dreams about and – later nightmares. The smile of the man he had once loved. Maybe, probably still loved. It was the Clark Kent, farm boy from Kansas smile.  
Bruce was in so much fucking trouble. 

~+~  
“The grave seems undisturbed, but it is empty. I haven’t told Mrs. Kent about it yet,” Alfred said the next evening, once he was back from Kansas. He had taken all the nice toys with him, so Bruce didn’t question it. The grave was empty. No one, except him and Alfred knew about it. “Mister Kent seems a bit more lively today.” 

Bruce nodded. “He’s been out on the deck since sunrise. Absorbing the sun I guess.” He was also nearly naked, which Bruce tried not to think about. 

“Does he know who he is?” 

“I’m not sure. He seems content with the name,” Bruce answered. 

“He knows who you are,” Alfred observed. 

“He remembers Bruce Wayne. I don’t know what else he remembers. Superman? Or only the time before.” If anything, Bruce thought. 

“Time will tell,” Alfred replied. 

Which was such an Alfred thing to say, Bruce thought. “At least he’s here where we can keep an eye on him,” Bruce said. 

“Indeed,” Alfred replied. “Shall I prepare something to eat for you and Mister Kent?” 

“He should eat,” Bruce mused. 

Alfred gave him a look that clearly stated he should eat as well. “Anything in particular?”

“Surprise us,” Bruce answered, smiling. 

“Very well, Sir.” Alfred grabbed an apron and Bruce a water from the fridge before he went out onto the deck. 

Clark was staring at the sky. It wasn't too hot, as it was the end of summer. Already Clark had been dead more than a year and apparently alive again for at least a week. Probably longer because it took some time to get from Smallville to Gotham. 

Bruce nudged the bottle against Clark's arm and Clark's eyes snapped to his. “You must be thirsty. You've been out here for hours.” 

Clark took the bottle, unscrewed it and emptied half of it in one go. “Peaceful here.” 

Bruce had to admit that it was. He looked out onto the still lake, listened to the wildlife and Clark's breathing and felt at peace too.  
“It is,” Bruce said, sitting down on the deck, next to Clark. He wasn't close enough to feel Clark's body heat, but didn't dare sitting closer. 

“Thank you,” Clark said. 

Bruce wanted to ask for what, but then just nodded. “You're welcome.” 

“Here,” Clark added. 

And Bruce couldn’t argue that either.  
They stayed like this until Alfred came out to get them for dinner. 

~+~  
“Will you tell Miss Diana about Mister Kent?” Alfred asked two days later. 

Bruce took a sip of his coffee, to give himself more time to answer. Alfred raised an eyebrow. Alfred of course knew all of Bruce's tactics. “You should call him Clark,” Bruce said. 

“You're avoiding the question. Quite obviously so,” Alfred replied. 

“I don't know,” Bruce said. The truth was he didn't want anyone else to know just yet. He wanted to keep Clark to himself for a bit longer. “It has only been four days.” 

“I understand,” Alfred said. And the thing was that Bruce was sure Alfred did. 

He would tell Diana in time.  
For now he would help Clark get better. So far they knew that Clark understood everything, but speech seemed for some reason to be a problem. Clark didn't sleep well. He didn't do well when it was dark, so the Lakehouse was lit up like a Christmas tree as soon as it got dark outside. He didn't have any of his powers, except maybe for the strength, but even that wasn't as it used to be. Bruce wondered if it had to do with his body, or if his mind was responsible. Only time would tell. 

He did remember some things, but not others. And as speech was a problem, Bruce really couldn’t be sure how much Clark remembered.  
If he remembered Bruce wanting to kill him. If he remembered all the pain Bruce had inflicted on him. The fear he had installed in Clark. If he remembered that even after all that he had faith in Bruce's compassion for humans in need.  
Bruce didn't want to ask any of these questions.  
Maybe for now it was enough that Clark was here, that he wanted to be here in Bruce's house.  
That he was staying. 

 

~Two~  
Clark looked over at Bruce, they were sitting outside on the deck. Clark with his feet in the water of the lake, Bruce on a chair reading the paper.  
Old fashioned, Clark thought, most people used a tablet to keep up with the news in this time an age. Clark liked that about Bruce.  
Clark liked a lot about Bruce.  
He hated that his speech was all wrong, that the words weren’t there when Clark needed them. When he spoke he sounded like an idiot, he thought. 

“Stop frowning, Clark,” Bruce said. 

Clark frowned harder just to be a dick. 

Bruce sighed. “You can just write it down.” 

“What?” 

“Whatever you want. The questions you must have,” Bruce said. 

Clark had a lot of questions. One of them was why the hell Bruce Wayne let him stay at his window display of a house. If he remembered correctly, and his memory was hazy, there were whole chunks missing in fact, then they haven’t parted on the best of terms. They had a fight. A big one. The last good thing he remembered with Bruce was ten years ago. 

“The fight?” Clark said, because he would not start writing shit down to be able to communicate. That would take forever. 

“Which one?” Bruce asked. He was still not looking at Clark, but Clark felt his attention shift, focus on Clark. 

Which one. What the hell? It stood to reason that they had more than one fight. Clark remembered a woman. Or more than one maybe. 

“Phone,” Clark said. 

“I don’t understand,” Bruce sighed. 

“Need a phone,” Clark said carefully. “To type.” 

“Ah,” Bruce replied, as he clued in. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” 

What else was there to do, really? Of course Clark would stay. He knew that something had happened to him. He knew that for some reason Bruce Wayne would take care of him. After a week at Bruce’s house, he was pretty sure the reason was guilt. Clark couldn’t remember why Bruce would feel guilty. 

“Here,” Bruce said, handing him a brand new cell phone. “I programmed my number in.” 

Clark nodded. “Okay.” He switched the phone on. It took a few minutes to get familiar with the surface, but it wasn’t really brain surgery. 

‘The last fight we had’ he typed, but then thought better of it, that would give Bruce too many outs. ‘the last time we saw each other, what happened?’ he hit sent. 

Bruce looked at his phone and sighed. “Way to go, Kansas.” 

Clark gave him a sharp look. 

Bruce looked like he didn’t want to talk about it at all. “Tell me,” Clark said. 

Bruce looked out over the still lake and took a breath. “You died.” 

Clark stared at him. ‘I kinda figured that out when I dug myself out of a grave, Bruce.’ Clark wrote. That was not what he had wanted to hear. That was not the answer to all the other questions. 

“Right,” Bruce said after a glance at his phone. “Of course you would be all blasé about that. Sure, dig yourself out of a grave. It’s nothing. What does it matter that we thought you died for over a year!” 

“Bruce,” Clark said helplessly. 

Bruce closed his eyes briefly. “So what is it you want to know, exactly?” 

What was it that Clark wanted to know? ‘What happened the last time we saw each other?”

Bruce glanced at the phone then looked at Clark. “What do you remember?” 

‘Why, so you can lie about the rest?’ Clark typed furiously. 

“Fine. We fought. I didn’t know that you were, are, Superman. I didn’t want to know who you were. I think after you trashed the Batmobile you knew it was me. So, I made a plan. I went to war. I wanted to kill you. I tried to kill you. I nearly killed you. You remember any of that?” 

Clark shook his head. “Only pain. And fear.” 

“Well, I don’t know if that was me or Doomsday. You killed him, he killed you, with the spear I made.”

Clark’s hand went to his chest, rubbing it. He remembered the pain. 

“Yes, that’s where the hole in your chest was,” Bruce said. 

“The woman?” 

“Lois?” Bruce asked. 

Clark frowned. “Lois?”

“Yes, the one you wanted to marry before you died. Lois Lane.”

Clark shook his head. ‘The woman with the sword. The warrior.’ He typed out. 

“Diana,” Bruce said. There was a certain fondness in his voice when he said Diana’s name. Clark wasn’t sure he liked it. “She’s fine, if that was your question.” 

Clark nodded. “Lois?” 

“I don’t know if she’s fine, Clark. I think you should talk to her,” Bruce replied. 

Clark didn’t want to talk to her. He remembered her, but he didn’t feel anything toward her. At least not something you should feel for someone you wanted to marry. ‘I loved her? Wanted to marry her?’ Clark typed. 

Bruce nodded. “Yes. To both.“ 

“And you?”

“Did I want to marry Lois Lane?” Bruce asked amused. 

Clark rolled his eyes. “No, you and me?” 

“We were over a long time ago,” Bruce replied. 

Clark didn’t think that was true. He could remember the time with Bruce clearly. Or a lot clearer than he remembered everything more recent. He knew that Bruce had paid him, the first time and after that too. He knew he and Bruce had kissed, and had sex. He knew he had cared for Bruce. Knew that Bruce had cared for him too. Looking at Bruce now, he knew Bruce still cared. 

“You sure?” 

“Clark. You wanted to marry someone else. I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of moving on and being over someone.” His lips were curled into a wry smile. 

It probably was the definition of moving on and being over someone, but that was then. More than a year ago. This was now. 

‘I died,’ Clark typed, ‘that puts a whole new perspective on things.’ He toyed for a moment with the send button, but then decided to not send it after all. Maybe he had doubts now, that didn’t mean that Bruce wanted to pick up where they had left off more than ten years ago. 

“Maybe,” Clark said instead out loud. 

Bruce chose not to comment. 

~+~  
So, Clark thought, here were the facts. Bruce Wayne was Batman. He had known that since he trashed the Batmobile, Bruce had been right about that. He hadn’t been able to help himself, he had peaked behind the cowl. By then he and Bruce had been over and Clark…had moved on. He had put all that together from his own holey memories and the internet. Conversations with Bruce as well. The phone helped in that regard. 

Another fact of his life now was that he had no powers to speak of. He was maybe a bit stronger than the average human being, but when it came to the rest of his powers? Nothing. Clark was hopeful his body would heal itself with time. But right now he was no use as Superman and he was still a dead man as Clark Kent. 

‘No one knows I’m alive,’ he wrote Bruce. 

‘I know you’re alive, Alfred knows you’re alive,’ Bruce typed back half an hour later. He was at the office, because unlike Clark, Bruce had a life outside of the Lakehouse. Clark waited for something more and when it was evident that Bruce was done with him right now, he left the phone and went outside. It was still warm for the end of summer and he loved the peace of the lake and the surrounding grounds. It reminded him – in some abstract way – of home. The horizon, the nothingness around him that wasn’t really nothingness. The nature. 

He briefly thought about a swim and then decided to go and explore. How far could he walk until he ended up at a fence? 

The ruin was imposing even in its decomposing state. It had something sad about it. A Gothic loveliness, Clark thought. He stared at it for a while, debating with himself if it would be wise to go inside. There were no doors to keep him out. The house was a husk. Clark wondered why Bruce kept it like this. Why not rebuild? Why not demolish completely?  
And then it hit him. This was a reminder, of what Bruce considered his failure. A monument for his guild. God, Clark thought, Bruce had issues. 

‘You were Batman when we first met?’ He typed once he was at the Lakehouse again. It took Bruce another twenty minutes, in which Clark made coffee and a sandwich for himself, to reply. The answer was a simple: yes. 

Clark didn’t even know why he had asked that question in the first place. It was so obvious now. He drank his coffee and ate his sandwich. 

~+~  
“You look like hell,” Clark said, once Bruce entered the house. 

“You called your mom,” Bruce replied. “A little warning next time?” 

Clark shrugged. It had been an emotional conversation to say the least. She had cried, he had cried too. Then she got angry. At least Clark was able to form real sentences now. It was partly why he had waited so long to call her. “Did she chew you out?” 

“She wasn’t happy with me. It’s not like I kept you prisoner here,” Bruce said, loosening his tie. His hands, Clark noted, looked big and competent. He had the briefest flash of those hands on his skin and swallowed. Why was everything involving Bruce such a stark vibrant image in his mind? Why did everything else pale compared to it? Was it Bruce? Was it Clark? 

“I know,” Clark said. “Sorry.” 

“No, you’re not,” Bruce replied, pouring himself a drink. “You wanted to…I don’t know, get to me for some reason.” 

The thing was, Clark did. He didn’t know what this itchy feeling was, but he wanted to push and pull and he wanted to make Bruce push and pull back. “I guess I’m going crazy in here.” But that wasn’t quite it either. 

“Go and visit your mom then,” Bruce replied. “Some change of scenery might help. And it would be good for her too, to see you.” 

“You have a mustache I can borrow?” Clark joked. 

“You still haven’t shaved. A new suit and coat and no one will recognize you, Clark. Especially because everyone thinks you’re dead. You don’t even have to wear the glasses.” 

“We should trim the beard a bit, maybe do something with the hair?” Alfred said from the door. He was carrying bags of groceries, Clark went to help him put them on the counter. “Thank you Master Clark,” Alfred said as they started to put away the groceries while Bruce was watching them. 

“I know a good hair dresser,” Bruce said after a moment of silence. 

“I have no money,” Clark replied. It was strange that this thought only occurred to him now. 

“If you haven’t noticed, I do,” Bruce said in a mild tone. 

Maybe it was the tone, maybe it was that there really was no point in getting angry just because Bruce stated the obvious. Clark still didn’t have his powers back, except for more than average strength, but he could form real sentences now at least and that had to count for something. Bruce just wanted to help, Clark and his mom. 

“Can I borrow your private jet?” He asked. 

Bruce nodded. “Just tell Alfred when you need it. He will arrange everything.” 

“Of course, Master Bruce,” Alfred said smoothly. 

Clark nodded. 

~+~  
“You don’t have a driver’s license that’s why Alfred will drive you to the airport, Clark,” Bruce said over his coffee. 

Clark nodded. He hadn’t thought about that either. He usually flew or ran. But that was out of the question until his powers were restored and god only knew how long that would take.  
He was a mere mortal now.  
It wasn’t so bad. 

“Stop frowning and eat up,” Bruce added. 

“I wasn’t frowning,” Clark protested. 

”Sure you weren’t,” Bruce replied. Probably just to humor Clark. Clark let it slide. 

He was nervous about the visit to his mom. He didn’t know what to tell her. They had spoken on the phone a few times since that first time a week ago, but it wasn’t the same and they both knew it.  
He wanted to see her, hold her in his arms, eat her pies, but he also didn’t want leave here, didn’t want to leave Bruce. 

“Have fun in Kansas, Clark,” Bruce added, finish his coffee. 

“Have fun here,” Clark replied. 

Bruce smiled. 

~+~  
“What happened?” Clark yelled, he couldn’t help himself. Bruce was – he looked terrible. There were bruises all over his torso and cuts on his arms that were still bleeding sluggishly. Alfred was in the process of patching Bruce up. 

“The job happened, Clark,” Bruce replied calmly. 

“The job,” Clark echoed. 

“Yes, the job,” Bruce answered. 

“I was only gone a week,” Clark said. He had taken a taxi back to the Lakehouse from the airport because he hadn't wanted to bother Alfred and came back to this. 

Bruce gave him a sharp look. “You think I wasn’t out while you were here?” 

Clark hadn’t even thought about it, to be honest. He had been preoccupied with – a lot of other stuff. “I-“

“I am always out there, Clark. When we first met I was out there too. You know that. Or have you forgotten?” 

He had, was the thing. Not really, but for the moment. “No, I knew I just-“ 

Something caught his attention, and then he realized that it was Bruce’s heart, beating a bit faster as Alfred was tying the stitches. When did he start to listen to Bruce’s heart, he wondered. 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” 

“Don’t worry?” Clark asked. How the hell could he not worry? 

“You died, this is really nothing,” Bruce said. 

Clark barked out a laugh. “Right.” 

“The shower is free if you want to use it, Master Clark,” Alfred cut in smoothly. 

God, what he wanted was to shake Bruce and make him see reason, because he was not – but it wasn’t his place, was it? 

“Yes, I think I will do just that.” 

Bruce’s heart had calmed down now and Clark felt relief wash over him. He went to take a shower. 

~+~  
Bruce handed him a glass of whiskey and sat down. He moved a bit more carefully than before Clark left town to visit his mother, but his heart was beating strong and steady. 

“So, how was your visit?” He asked, a sight escaping his lips once he was comfortable on the couch. 

Clark’s fingers itched with the need to touch him. He didn’t. “Good,“ he said. 

“Good?“ 

“We had a chance to talk, I…missed her. Mom thinks I should talk to Lois.” 

“What do you think?” 

“That mom is right,” Clark said, running a hand through his hair. “She deserves that.” 

“But?” 

“But I don’t know what I feel for her anymore,” Clark answered. And wasn’t that a horrible thing to say? He had wanted to marry her. He had risked his life for her. He had told her she was his world. And now…now. He glanced over at Bruce, now… he was here. Listening to Bruce’s heartbeat. 

“Maybe,” Bruce said, taking a sip of his drink, “talking to her will clarify a few things for you and Miss Lane.” 

“Maybe-“

“Clark,” Bruce cut him off and there was something in his voice that made Clark look at him directly. Bruce was serious, Clark could tell. This was something important. “If you don’t feel for her what you used to feel for her, don’t lie to her. She will find out. It will make you unhappy in the long run. Trust me.” He finished his drink in one go and closed his eyes, glass dangling from his fingers. “Just because she’s the only woman you ever loved doesn’t mean she’s the only woman you will ever love, or that she is the one. The one woman you want to spend the rest of your life with.” 

“Person,” Clark heard himself say. 

Bruce’s eyes opened. “What?” 

“I said, person.” 

“Yes, I heard you but what- oh.” 

Clark smiled. “What you thought you were the only man I was ever interested in?” 

Bruce spread his arms. “Look at me…” There was amusement in his eyes. He was teasing. “Granted I was younger back then-“

“You still look good, Bruce,” Clark said, his voice was too soft, even to his own ears. 

There was silence for a moment, Bruce poured himself another drink, while Clark finished his. “Thank you. So, other men?” 

“Yes,” Clark answered, but he wasn’t going to tell Bruce that he never did anything except kiss them. That it never went as far as what he had with Bruce. “Other men. Seems I like people.” 

“Of course you do,” Bruce said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have tried to save them.” 

“You are out there every night, too, Bruce.” 

“Yes,” Bruce said. 

“But you’re not out there to save people?” 

“I’m out there to punish those who step out of line,” Bruce answered. 

“You saved my mother.” 

Bruce smiled, it was a small smile. “She’s your mother.” He said it like it explained everything and maybe, Clark thought, it did. Bruce finished his drink and got up. “Good night Clark.” 

Clark had the insane urge to grab his wrist and pull him back. He didn’t. “Good night Bruce.” 

 

~Three~  
“So, he lives with you?” Diana asked, holding the delicate coffee cup between her fingers. It was a quite restaurant, one she liked, with dark walls and old furniture. 

Bruce had just finished telling her about his house-guest. He had talked to Clark about telling Diana and he gave Bruce permission. Bruce privately thought that he was curious about Diana and really, who wouldn’t be? 

“Yes,” Bruce answered. 

“Why?” 

Bruce looked at her, smiled. “I haven’t the faintest idea. Because he doesn’t want to be at home?” 

“Maybe,” Diana said, “he wants to be with you.” 

Bruce ignored that. That was something he was ignoring ever since he saw Clark sitting on that bench in front of the Wayne building. “He’s pretty much useless.” 

“Bruce!” 

“I didn’t mean it like that: I meant he doesn’t have any of his powers. Mostly he just…I don’t know. But I think he should do something.” 

“He just came back from the dead,” Diana replied, matter of fact. 

“I know-“

“No, you don’t. No one does,” Diana said. 

“This happened before. Jesus-“

Diana slapped him not too gently on the arm, but her lips were curving into a smile. “We can’t ask him for advice, can we?” 

Bruce shook his head. No, they couldn’t. “You should come over, for dinner.” 

Diana raised an eyebrow. It was a neat trick that Bruce envied her – and Alfred. “Dinner.” 

“Yes, Diana, dinner. I think he needs company. Diversity is good for the soul.” 

“Are you quoting Alfred?” 

“Don’t tell him that I do that sometimes,” Bruce answered. 

“Dinner then. I think it might be time we speak to each other when there isn’t a battle going on.” 

“How does this Friday sound?” 

“Good,” Diana replied. 

~+~  
Clark and Diana hit it off from the very beginning. Bruce was pleased with himself. It felt right, which…wasn’t something he felt very often.  
She made Clark laugh, she was witty, she was funny and smart. And Bruce respected her as a warrior.  
She told Clark about the others. 

“Others like you?” Clark asked. 

“There aren’t any men like me,” Diana replied with a smiled. “But there are others with unusual abilities.” 

“And you’re trying to recruit them?” Clark asked. “For what?” 

Diana shot Bruce a look. “He has a feeling.” 

Clark laughed. “Yes, he always has a feeling.” 

“He is in the room,” Bruce cut in. 

“He is also paranoid,” Diana said. 

“And obsessed,” Clark nodded. 

Diana laughed. 

Bruce gave up on them and grabbed the wine. 

After dinner they migrated to the living area, where Diana made Clark talk about his childhood, growing up on the farm, about how he and Bruce met. 

“Really? You paid him?” Diana replied. 

“For his company. I needed someone –“

“And I was a good looking boy back then,” Clark cut in. 

“You are a good looking man,” Diana said. 

Clark smiled at her. “Very kind of you to say that.” 

She laughed. “I bet you broke all the hearts, Clark.” 

“I didn’t, actually,” Clark said. “I had mine broken.” 

Bruce swallowed the rest of his wine and grabbed the bottle. 

Diana shook her head. “I think I should head home. There is some work I’d like to finish tomorrow at the museum.” 

“But tomorrow is Saturday,” Clark protested.

“You should go out and do something then,” Diana replied. “Take a walk, grab a few macaroons and a coffee. Go to a gallery or a museum.” 

Bruce could see that Clark was thinking about it. It was a good thing, he decided, that he had asked Diana to come over. She wasn’t only good for him, it seemed she was good for Clark too. 

“Yes, I think I’d like to.” 

“You should take Bruce too. He needs more sun,” she winked at Bruce. 

Clark laughed. 

It was a nice sound, Bruce thought, realizing that he had gotten used to it over the last few weeks. 

~+~  
“Diana is taking me out,” Clark said as Bruce let his gaze travel from head to toe. Clark, with a bit of help from Alfred, cleaned up nicely. Even now with the beard and without the glasses. He seemed like a different person. He could be easily intimidating, because of his build, but he wasn’t. It was, Bruce realized, something he liked about Clark. 

“For culture and macaroons?” Bruce asked, leaning a hip against the breakfast bar. 

“I hope there will be macaroons, she said she knows a place.” 

Bruce didn’t doubt it. She had been living in Paris for a time, she surely knew where to get macaroons that tasted as good as those at Ladurée. 

“Bring me back some?” Bruce asked. 

Clark blinked at him and then nodded, smiling. “Sure.” 

Bruce watched him go and wondered what the hell he was doing. 

~+~  
Clark was sitting on the deck again, soaking up the last warm rays of sunshine. Bruce was watching him from the inside, not quite hiding in the shadows. One hand on the glass and then Clark turned and his gaze locked on Bruce. He couldn’t look away. The eyes seemed the same. Was that even possible? After all the horrors he’s seen? Clark had still the eyes of that boy he met so long ago.  
Clark broke the moment by turning around and taking off his shirt and then the rest of his clothing. Bruce was watching the play of light on Clark’s muscular shoulders and back and ass. He couldn’t look away and frankly he didn’t want to look away. He pressed his hand to the glass harder and took a breath as Clark disappeared into the water. 

“Master Clark went for a swim?” Alfred asked, startling Bruce. He was off his game. 

“It seems so,” Bruce replied, watching Clark swim. 

“It’s a good thing then that we have no neighbors,” Alfred said and then in that certain teasing tone he added, “Maybe you could join him.” 

Bruce closed his eyes briefly. “I have work to do.” 

“Don’t you always,” Alfred said. 

He ignored it. He had been home more often lately. He was still patrolling but…it was different since Clark moved in. He knew it. He just couldn’t or wouldn’t, he admitted, put his finger on the why. 

“I’ll be down in the cave,” Bruce replied. 

“Very well, Sir.” 

~+~  
Bruce woke up with a start. Someone was in his room. He sat up slowly and reached out to switch the bedside lamp on. He wasn’t surprised to see Clark standing in the door. 

“Can’t sleep?” Bruce asked. 

“I was wondering,” Clark replied and Bruce waited, but it seemed that this was the whole thing, not a prologue to an explanation why Clark was hovering in the door to Bruce’s bedroom. 

“You were wondering what?” Bruce prompted. 

“What we’re doing here,” Clark said. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Yes, you do, Bruce,” Clark said. “You do. You introduced me to Diana with a hidden agenda. She isn’t stupid, you know. Neither am I.” 

Bruce rubbed a hand over his face. It was the middle of the night. He had barely had two hours of sleep and he was not up to this. He just plain wasn’t. 

“Can we talk about this in the morning?” He asked, when he was more awake, when he could deal with Clark and his thinking and feelings. 

“So you can run away?” Clark asked. “I don’t think so.” 

“So you’re cornering me when I’m weak?” Bruce snapped. 

“It seems to be the only way with you,” Clark said, coming closer. He was only wearing boxer shorts and nothing else. “And you aren’t weak Bruce. You’re the man who nearly killed Superman.” 

Bruce flinched, he couldn’t help it. “Get out.” 

“Bruce, I didn’t mean-“

“Get. Out.” Bruce repeated. He was barely holding his anger in check. He didn’t want to trash the room or break a few bones by punching Clark in the face. That wouldn’t help anyone. 

Clark looked at him for a moment longer and then left the bedroom. Closing the door quietly.  
Bruce switched the lamp off and stared into the darkness. Sometimes he had the feeling the darkness was staring back at him. That feeling had been there less often since Clark – he wasn’t going to think about it or Clark. Not now at least, when he was still angry.  
After an hour of lying awake he gave up and grabbed the sleeping pills. Drug induced sleep was better than none, he figured. 

~+~  
“Bruce,” Clark said and he looked like he hadn’t slept at all last night, but Bruce was not in the mood. He didn’t have his first cup of coffee yet. 

“I have an early meeting,” Bruce replied. 

“Don’t do that,” Clark said, his fingers curling around the metal back of the kitchen chair and denting it.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t dismiss me like you did ten years ago. I’m not a kid anymore. I know what I want.” 

“Really? Did you talk to Lois Lane yet?” Bruce asked, grabbing his jacket and the keys. He could have coffee at the office. It wasn’t as good as Alfred’s but it wasn’t bad either. 

“No,” Clark answered. 

“And why not? If you know what you want? It should be no problem then to talk to her, to tell her you’re alive, and that you want the ring back because you’re not going to marry her anymore.” 

“It’s not that simple,” Clark replied. 

Bruce thought that it was that simple. Clark was just not ready to let go of his old life. Wasn’t ready for – whatever, Bruce thought irritated. He wanted it all and Bruce wasn’t going to share. He had known that a year ago when he saw them together at that party. Back then he had been ready to acknowledge that Clark had moved on and not hope for anything. Bruce had been beyond hoping for anything, except killing Superman.  
And now here they were. Superman alive again and Bruce…late for his meeting. 

“People tell themselves that it never is, but that’s bullshit, Clark,” Bruce said. “I have to go, or I’ll be late for my meeting. Don’t wait up.” 

~+~  
Clark was waiting for him when he came back late that night. He had been out with a girl half his age at a trendy bar where they met a boy who was half Bruce’s age as well and – he had been still angry at Clark and he had been sexually frustrated as well and they were there and they had wanted to have some fun. So Bruce had fun with two pretty people. He didn’t feel guilty or ashamed for it, but looking at Clark now, he felt tired. 

“I told you not to wait up,” he said as he put his keys on the table and shrugged out of his jacket. 

“Yeah, right. You might want to run away from your problems, but I don’t. I talk.” 

“Sure you do, except to Lois,” Bruce replied and regretted it a second later. It was a low blow and they both knew it. 

“I talked to Lois,” Clark said. 

“And she believed you?” 

“No, of course not, so I told her to call mom, and then she believed me.”  
Bruce didn’t know what to say. He had forced Clark to do this, but he wasn’t proud of it. “You were always a right bastard, Bruce,” Clark said, with a sigh. “Always thinking you know everything.” 

“I don’t-“

He didn’t get any further because Clark was crowding him against the kitchen island. They were so close Bruce could feel Clark’s breath on his skin. “I’m not that kid anymore,” he hissed. “You can’t make decisions for me anymore.” 

“I didn’t-“

“Yes, you did. You fucked me and you left.”

“You weren’t going to stay!” Bruce snapped. 

“I’m going to stay now,” Clark said and kissed him.  
It was a hard kiss, nearly painful and Clark’s beard was distracting. 

“Are you?” Bruce asked, once Clark broke the kiss. 

“Going to stay?” 

“Yes,” Bruce replied. Because he didn’t think that Clark would. Not in the long run. Once his powers were back to normal he would be Superman again. The world needed him more than Bruce did. 

Clark sighed, like he had read that thought. “Bruce, don’t you think it means something that I came here? That I looked for you, even my brain was pretty much mush?” 

“You held on to the person you knew, your long-term memory was better than-“

“Yes, but I know my mother longer than I know you, Bruce. You have to know that. I didn’t go back to my mother. I looked for you. Because I knew, call it instinct, that you would and could protect me,” he cut in. “And you did,” he added with a smile. 

“What about after?” Bruce asked. 

“You’re a stubborn son of a bitch that sees problems everywhere, aren’t you?” Clark asked, but Bruce could see the amusement in his eyes and he didn’t know if he liked it or of it pissed him off. 

“I like to be prepared for everything,” Bruce replied stubbornly. 

“Don’t I know it,” Clark said. “I don’t know what will happen once I have my powers back.”

“Bullshit.” 

“Fine, I know I will try to reclaim my old life. Not all of my old life,” Clark said with emphasis. “I know I want to be with you. I wanted to be with you ten years ago, Bruce. I just couldn’t. You had all the power back then.” 

Bruce snorted. “Right, you were Superman back then too.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Clark said, running his fingers along Bruce’s arm. Bruce could feel the heat through his shirt. “I was a boy looking for himself. I was strong, yes, I had powers, yes, but you…you.” He shrugged. 

And Bruce understood it. Bruce had had everything. Had figured his life out. Had the money, had the power, he had said it himself all those years ago. Clark had been only a boy. A boy Bruce had paid for his time and company. They hadn’t been equals. They were equals now.  
“I get it. Things are different now.” 

“No masks,” Clark said, leaning in again and this time the kiss didn’t come as a surprise at all. It was slower, tenderer. The beard was still a distraction. 

“I don’t know,” Bruce replied, running his fingers through the beard. “I think this has to go.” 

Clark laughed. “Bathroom.”

“Now?” 

“A shower and a shave, your shower is big enough for two people,” Clark said, grabbing Bruce’s hand, entwining their fingers and pulling gently.  
Bruce gave up the resistance. They could have this now and everything else they would figure out later. 

~+~  
He watched Clark strip and step under the spray of warm water, watched the water run down his muscular back and ass and legs. He was broader now, but still shorter than Bruce. His skin wasn’t marked by a single scar. He was perfect. 

“Hand me the raiser Bruce,” Clark said and Bruce did. 

He stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the shower with Clark. Watched as Clark got rid of the beard and his face became smooth and- he reached out to stroke a finger over the pale scar on his cheek. 

Clark grabbed his hand and held his eyes. “Don’t.” 

Don’t what? Bruce wondered. Don’t feel guilty about it? How could he not? He had done this. With Clark on his back, looking up and at Bruce, Bruce enjoying the pain he inflicted on Clark.  
“Clark.”

“It’s a scar, so what? You have many,” Clark said, letting go of Bruce’s hand and tracing a scar on Bruce’s chest. “I bet some of these I put there.” 

“I wanted to kill you.” 

“You wanted to kill the symbol. I wanted to stop you,” Clark said. “I think that makes us even.” He put the raiser away and pulled Bruce closer. “We have both been played, but look at us now. Here, together, about to have spectacular sex-“

“Spectacular, hmm?” Bruce interrupted. 

“Yes, spectacular. I know it was only a blow job last time, but it had been one of the best I ever had,” Clark said. 

“You’re probably seeing it through a nostalgic filter,” Bruce replied, but his mouth curved into a smile anyway. 

“Maybe you should refresh the memory,” Clark teased back.  
Bruce locked eyes with his and then sank slowly to the tiled floor.  
“Bruce,” Clark said, it was nearly a whisper and barley heard over the sound of the water. Bruce looked up. 

“Didn’t you want me to refresh the memory?” 

Clark nodded.

Bruce smiled, grabbed Clark’s ass in both hands and leaned in. He didn’t take it unto his mouth straight away, even he really wanted to, instead he kissed the tip of Clark’s cock and then ran his tongue over the head. Clark moaned and his hands settled gently on Bruce’s head.  
He tasted like water and skin and a little bit salty once Bruce dived in deeper, took more of Clark’s cock into his mouth. Clark’s fingers tangled in his wet hair once he started to suck and lick Clark in earnest. He loved the feel of Clark on his tongue: hard and hot. 

“Bruce-“

He was pretty sure that Clark couldn’t catch any human diseases, so he sucked harder when he felt Clark’s legs shake with the oncoming orgasm.  
He tasted like any other man. But Bruce had known that of course. 

“Spectacular,” Clark said, letting go of Bruce’s hair and then pulling him up, pulling him against his own hard body. “Spectacular,” he repeated against Bruce’s lips, one of his hands was sliding down Bruce’s stomach and then Clark’s fingers were curling around Bruce’s cock. 

Clark was kissing and nipping at his lips the whole time he was stroking Bruce's cock. He hadn’t felt so close to anyone in ages. He bit Clark’s lip when he came and let his head rest on Clark’s shoulder as the water washed all evidence away. 

“We should take this to the bedroom,” Bruce said, once his breathing was under control again. 

“You’re up for another round?” 

“Are you? The last time it was you who fell asleep on me,” Bruce said, stepping away from Clark and shutting the water off. He grabbed a towel and threw it at Clark, who caught it effortlessly. 

“I was an emotional mess Bruce, you can hardly blame me for that,” Clark replied. 

Bruce smiled wryly, he really couldn’t blame Clark for it, he had been doing the messing back then.  
“I’m not an old man, Clark. Bedroom?” 

“Yes,” Clark said. 

~+~  
Bruce woke up to a hard, hot body at his back and a heavy arm draped over his hip. He knew it was Clark, because who else could it have been. He didn’t know why he was surprised that Clark actually stayed the night. 

“I know you’re awake,” Clark mumbled into his back. “I listen to your heartbeat.”  
Bruce didn’t know if he was amused or a little bit creeped out by that admission. “I don’t do it on purpose, it’s how I know I care for someone…” he added. 

“Clark,” Bruce said, because there was nothing else to say. That was it. That was all he needed to say and knew that Clark would understand.  
He turned so he could look Clark in the eyes. “What is your opinion on morning sex?” 

Clark blinked. “I’m all for it?” 

“You don’t sound too convincing, maybe I should just take a cold shower and go down to the cave and-“

Clark shut him up by curling strong fingers around Bruce’s cock. “No, I think you should stay here.” 

“Hmm,” Bruce replied. “Lube and condoms are in the bedside drawer.” 

“Bruce-“

“You should fuck me,” Bruce interrupted and then because that was not what Clark needed to hear, “I want you to fuck me.” 

“I think I have to come clean and tell you that I actually never went that far with a man,” Clark said. 

“It’s not brain surgery, Clark. I’m confident you will figure it out.” 

“Right,” Clark said and grabbed the lube and condoms from the drawer. “You know you can’t catch anything from me.” 

“I like the smoother slide,” Bruce said. 

Clark nodded. It took a bit of guiding on Bruce’s part, but Clark was a fast learner and soon his fingers were sliding smoothly in and out of Bruce. Once Bruce was ready, he pushed Clark on his back and straddled him. 

“You really like to be in control, don’t you?” Clark panted, looking up at him. 

“Whatever gave you that impression?” Bruce asked and sank down slowly on Clark’s cock.  
Clark moaned and once Bruce bottomed out and started moving it seemed Clark was beyond any kind of human speech.  
“Touch me,” Bruce said when he felt he was close, but knew he couldn’t come untouched, he had never been able to. Clark had been running his hands over every bit of Bruce’s skin he could reach for a while now, but he curled his fingers around Bruce’s cock just right as soon as Bruce asked him for it. 

“Shit,” Clark hissed, when Bruce came over his fingers and clamped down on Clark’s cock hard. He could feel Clark getting harder and then come inside him. Clark grabbed him by the neck and pulled him down into a savage kiss. “We need to do this again. Maybe the other way around.”  
Bruce panted a yes into his skin. 

 

~Epilogue~

“I don’t think it will take much longer,” Clark said, from the deck. He was bundled up in a sweater, while Bruce was pulling on his winter coat. Clark didn’t feel the cold as acutely, which was strange, Bruce though as Clark loved the sun. 

“I know,” Bruce replied. Because he wasn’t blind and Clark wasn’t lying to him about his abilities coming back. It was January already and they had a good run, Bruce figured. Bruce’s legal team was working on getting Clark’s life back and that wouldn’t take much longer either. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Clark said, “And you’re wrong.” 

“So you don’t want to wear the cape again?” 

Clark sighed. “I will wear the cape again, but you’re wrong about me leaving.” The ‘you’ was implied. 

“You operate out of Metropolis,” Bruce pointed out. 

“I can fly,” Clark said. “You have a private jet, that you don’t even need to get there. Bruce…it’s not that far away. We can make it work. I’ll spend the weekends here, and most nights. I won’t even need a real apartment. Think about how much money that will save me.” He turned to grin at Bruce and Bruce shook his head. “I like it here. It’s peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” Bruce repeated, stepping beside Clark onto the deck. “I never thought anyone would say that about Gotham.” 

“It’s not Gotham I’m talking about and you know it. It’s this place, it’s you.” 

Bruce looked down at Clark’s dark hair and then reached out to run his fingers through it. It was soft and thick and if he leaned down and smelled it, it would smell of ozone and Bruce’s shampoo. Clark always smelled faintly of ozone when he had been flying. “It suits you,” Clark added and Bruce’s fingers tightened in his hair, he pulled and leaned down to kiss Clark. They were both breathing hard once Bruce broke the kiss. 

“It suits you too,” he said. 

“Does that mean I can officially move in and commute to work?” Clark asked. 

“You want to make this official?” 

Clark shrugged. “Not necessarily to the public, but yeah…,friends, family.” 

“Yes,” Bruce said. 

“Good,” Clark answered and smiled brilliantly up at Bruce.  
Bruce just had to kiss him again.


End file.
